Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out. THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS[8] BY HERBERT QUICK _Pietro:_ Th' offense, it seemeth me, Is one that by mercy's extremest stretch Might be o'erpassed. _Cosimo:_ Never, Pietro, never! The Brotherhood's honor untouchable Is touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinth Of sacred words and potent spells, and all The deep-involved horrors of our craft-- Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths, And every step in thridding it made dank By dripping terror and out-seeping awe, Shall it be said that e'en Ludovico May break our faith and live? Never, say I! --_Vision of Cosimo._ The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held its meetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called for Amidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world of business replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he and his companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars from which were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deal like a spy. They walked into the lodge-room where twenty-five or thirty men with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting. All seemed to know him, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in the conversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels" and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highly upholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at the door; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, began hustling the members to seats. "The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report if all present are known and tested members of our Dread and Mystic Conclave." "All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who proved to be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear within the confines of our sacred basilica." "Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, if brethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!" Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeing none, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking in the military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adopted by the early Christians, and turning square corners, as was the habit of St. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered passwords from the two or three strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all present had been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first time remembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to the lodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence of executions.